


Dance to a Cursed Melody

by Cyanocitta20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Love, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Pre-Slash, Prophecy, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Sad, Slash, Time Travel, kind of, that soon turns to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanocitta20/pseuds/Cyanocitta20
Summary: Everyone knows the story of a toddler, a Dark Lord, and a prophecy. But how many know the rest of the tale, left unwritten? For the vanquish of Voldemort was hardly the end. No, in fact, it was barely the beginning...A story of two lovers, who were also enemies. Two people just trying to change the future.But sometimes, love is not enough.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 14
Kudos: 156





	Dance to a Cursed Melody

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of my time travel series ‘(You are My) Past, Present, and Future’. However you do NOT need to read one to understand the other, therefore this can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

The story began on a fateful October 31, in the year 1981. A story of a toddler, a Dark Lord, and a prophecy. Everyone knows what happened from that one night up until that moment when the Dark Lord finally met his match, but how many know the entire truth? How many know the rest of the tale, left unwritten? For the vanquish of Voldemort was hardly the end. No, in fact, it was barely the beginning.

* * *

It wasn’t long after the Battle of Hogwarts that a certain Savior of the Wizarding World was hit by an unknown spell and hurtled decades into the past with no warning. Deaged a year or two, as well. He stared into the face of his one-time mentor, who he had collided with upon arrival, feeling completely dumbfounded. After a couple of misunderstandings, rushed excuses, and a cup of tea, he came to his senses and started planning his next step.

What choice did he have but to adjust and adapt, just the way he had lived his entire life? Harry Potter was used to being fate’s personal chew toy, after all. Besides, life after the war hadn’t been very relaxing for him. There were too many expectations, too much fame for him to handle. He could start a new life here, unknown and ordinary.

And that was exactly what he did.

He created a new identity as Evan Harrison, choosing to keep his nickname of ‘Harry’ just to tie himself, in some way, to his other life. He formulated a past filled with half-truths that most people wouldn’t think to question. A halfbood, orphaned as a baby, raised by muggles who had recently passed away. Then he found himself enrolled, once again, in Hogwarts as a sixth year student.

It would all have worked out perfectly. He could have had a peaceful, if a little boring, life. That is, if one Tom Riddle hadn’t also been a sixth year attending Hogwarts at the same time.

* * *

Tom Riddle stared. And stared. And stared some more. The new transfer student was...intriguing, to say the least. There was something different about him, something that caught Tom’s eye. So many mysteries surrounded Evan Harrison, and he was determined to figure it out.

An orphan, the boy claimed, raised by muggle relatives. No, that was not possible. The ease with which he cast the most difficult spells, the way he jumped into battle-stance at the slightest threat, it all told a completely different story. And his _eyes_. Harrison had unusually green eyes, but that wasn’t what interested Tom. What he was interested in was the hidden pain and a sort of darkness, the whispers of a tragic past that occasionally flickered in that green gaze.

And yet, oddly enough, Harrison acted completely unlike someone who had seen terrible things. In fact, he was practically the embodiment of happiness and laughter. He was trusting, caring, and overwhelmingly kind. His personality was like a breath of fresh air, and Tom had never been so entirely enraptured by someone.

It was more of an obsession, at first. The boy was interesting and extremely powerful, and Tom wanted him at his side. He wanted him, so Tom would have him, no matter what. That was all.

Until it wasn’t. Tom found himself wishing for light touches, for nights spent silently sitting together, for achingly tender moments that he had never craved before. It came to his attention that while he was succeeding in making Harry _his_ , this meant that he was also becoming _Harry’s_.

If he was being honest, he didn’t really mind that idea. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing.

* * *

“Tom, do you love me? Really?”

“You know I do. More than anything. Haven’t I told you just how important you are to me?”

“You did. It’s just... There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Whatever it is, it will not change my devotion to you. Nothing ever could.”

“...Alright. I trust you. Listen.”

“Always, love.”

“I don’t belong here...”

* * *

Truly, Tom did learn to care for Harry. He did, for it was possible for even one like Tom Riddle to actually love someone. No matter what meddling old fools may have believed. It was a difficult and confusing process, understanding that thing called _feelings_ , but Tom had always been a quick study. And for Tom, Harry was impossible not to love.

When Harry finally came clean about where he had come from, what horrors he had faced, Tom Riddle held him close. He whispered apologies, begged for forgiveness and made promises of a different future, forged together this time. He swore over and over that he loved Harry and would continue to do so forever. And ever. This promise was one that he had every intention of keeping — for indeed, he had never adored someone the way he did Harry Potter. That night, both of them cried until they fell asleep in each other’s arms, having exhausted themselves with all their tears. When they woke up the next morning, it was with a lightness that neither had ever felt, the feeling of actually anticipating what roads lay ahead of them. Whatever the future held, they were certain that they would face it together.

And so, with no more secrets between them, the two lovebirds spent many a day wrapped around each other, smiling and laughing like the besotted fools they were. One was never far away from the other, and both were more content with their lives than they had ever been. It was to no one’s surprise that they soon binded themselves to each other forever.

* * *

“Marry me.”

“Is that supposed to be a question, or a demand?”

“Both. Neither. Just say yes, will you?”

“Of course. I love you, you know that?”

“I know. I love you too, Harry.”

* * *

Love is powerful. It is a binding, grounding force that alters people, and brings out the best in them. Often times, an intense love would be enough to create miracles. A mother’s love protecting her child from the killing curse is only one of countless other examples.

If there ever was a pair with a bond strong enough to redesign the world, to break what was set in stone, it was certainly Harry and Tom. The two star-crossed lovers had a type of love that was difficult to come by, in any universe. And perhaps, this bond of theirs could have, _should_ have defied fate.

But sometimes, love — even one as unique and intense as theirs — is not enough.

Eventually Tom’s more sinister, cruel tendencies, his ambitions seeped out from behind the cage they had been locked in. It had been held back, deterred for a while, but not put to a stop. Not at all. Tom still craved power, still wanted to be feared and revered, and so he soon set out to pursue his dreams.

Oh, he still loved his Harry, of course he did. That would _never_ change. Harry was the one and only light in his life, his guiding North Star, his Sun. He had promised Harry forever, and he had meant it. Besides, he figured that even if he was a Dark Lord, as long as he had Harry by his side, he wouldn’t ever become the crazed monster from Harry’s memories.

Tom knew Harry would not appreciate his actions as Voldemort. Therefore he kept his activities hidden as long as he could. Despite his efforts, however, eventually his soul and his love became tarnished, dirtied until it was no longer what it used to be. He began seeing Harry as something of a possession, no longer the equal he had once promised. And yet even then, the newly formed Dark Lord cared for nothing as much as he cared for Harry. Harry was still the most valuable to him. Perhaps his love wasn’t quite pure anymore, perhaps it was a little disfigured, but there was no doubt that it still existed.

* * *

Harry Potter, for his part, recognized the changes in Tom, right from the very start. In fact, Tom’s efforts to keep his other duties a secret was more or less useless against Harry. Sure, he had always hoped beyond hope that if Tom loved him enough, if _he_ loved _Tom_ enough, they could bring about a change, have a chance to rewrite the stars. Even so, in the back of his mind, Harry had always had that inking of doubt, of worry, that no matter what he tried, some things were inevitable.

Which brought him to where he stood now. Against his own better judgement, Harry had allowed himself to fall, fall blindly into a deep chasm from which he couldn’t find his way out. Tom was no longer the Tom he had fallen in love with, and yet Harry still loved him. Harry realized that no matter what Tom did, what horrific crimes he committed, his devotion to him would never falter. Harry’s love, unlike his partner’s, was of the purest, rarest form. He adored Tom despite all the flaws in character, loved so completely that it encompassed every murder, every torture that was caused by Tom’s hands.

And this realization hurt, for Harry knew that Tom’s actions could not be condoned. What kind of person did that make him, loving a murderer and a psychopath? How could he _still_ care so deeply for such a person?

Yet he did, with all his heart. And he knew that although Tom’s behavior had changed, he loved Harry in his own way as well. So Harry would not, _could_ not give up on him. He whispered a prayer, over and over, for _his_ Tom to come back. He wished with his whole being that his love, their love, could alter destiny.

It was not to be.

* * *

“Please, Tom, _stop_.”

“You are mine. You were my _horcrux_. My dear Harry, there’s no reason to fear.”

“ _Tom, please-_ “

“You will be safe here. No one will ever harm you again.”

* * *

Tom was no longer Tom Riddle. He was recognized as Voldemort, or the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who, depending on who you asked. He was feared by all witches and wizards, a threat to the peace since Grindelwald, and he was on his way to take over the whole of the Wizarding World.

Voldemort kept Harry safeguarded at all times. No one was allowed to see him but himself and his house elves. No one even knew where Harry was. His most precious gem would not be bothered or hurt by someone else, ever again. And no matter how much Harry protested against this, it was for the best. Voldemort believed that it might take some time for Harry to realize it, but they would get there eventually. While Harry was protected, he would bring the world down. And once the world was his... why, he would lay that world at Harry’s feet.

Months passed, and each time he visited Harry the boy was a little thinner, a little more sickly, a little more pale. No matter that he was given three meals a day and doted on by house elves, he was still locked up and it was obviously wearing him down. Even then, Voldemort’s conviction that it was the only way to keep Harry safe did not sway.

Then was it any surprise when Harry, gradually growing more and more frustrated, eventually lashed out?

* * *

“You can’t keep doing this. Let me go!”

“Harry, Harry, _Harry_. Beloved, when will you see that everything I do is for you?”

“If you want what’s best for me, then let me out, Tom. Let me _go_.”

“Do you not love me anymore, Harry?”

“You know I do. No matter what you do, I love you. Don’t you see? It’s you who doesn’t love me!”

“Don’t you dare accuse me of not loving you. Don’t you _dare_.”

* * *

The words came with a sharp slap upside the head. As the sound of the slap pierced the air, both Harry and Voldemort froze. For a moment, only a heavy silence surrounded them. Harry, holding his hand to his head, stared up at Voldemort with wide, disbelieving eyes while Voldemort stared back down at him, just as shocked at his own actions. Then, without a single word, Voldemort turned and swept out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

When a house elf came up with Harry’s dinner that day, there was a single, perfect red rose and a healing potion in addition to his food. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but Harry quietly accepted it all the same, hoping it was a one time occasion. After all, he _had_ pushed Voldemort a little too far, hadn’t he?

But that day was simply the first of many.

After a while, it was no longer a difficulty to see Harry marked up in various ways whenever he tried to speak his mind. A pointed fingernail, digging into his cheek until blood welled up and dripped down his face. A number of scars, littered over his chest and back from cutting spells carelessly thrown his way. Bruises shaped like the hands of the Dark Lord, coloring various areas all over his body.

Each time it happened, Harry would find another healing potion with his food. Voldemort would never verbally apologize for losing his increasingly short temper, but he had certainly never meant to _hurt_ Harry. He just wished his Harry would understand that he needed to do as he was told and consent to being protected. If Harry would just listen to him, then Voldemort would no longer have to be so ill-tempered with him. Really, it was all for Harry’s well being.

* * *

It was another year before someone found where Harry was hidden. Two of Harry’s friends at Hogwarts — a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw — had finally succeed in their search. By this time, Harry was tired. Tired of waiting, of holding on, of living. He had lost too much weight, and his eyes were dull and void, deprived of the life that had once been Harry’s most defining feature. Upon finding the state their friend was in, the two decided that they had to break Harry out of his cell.

However, they had disregarded the complexity of the spells Voldemort had cast in order to keep his gem safe. They had believed, rather naively, that the wards surrounding the room were the only ones they needed to cancel. What they didn’t realize was that there were multiple spells centered around Harry himself, alerting Voldemort to any change in his condition. It was inevitable, therefore, that the Dark Lord found them before they managed to escape.

Voldemort appeared in front of them in a fit of rage, throwing dark curses at the two who were assisting Harry. In his fury, he was nearly blinded, but he kept himself from allowing any life-threatening curses to reach his lover. He’d only planned on murdering the other two, and perhaps scaring his Harry into obedience a little, but he would _never_ let Harry die. Not even now. Voldemort, however, had forgotten that Harry wouldn’t just stand by when his friends needed him.

When he saw an _Avada Kedavra_ fly at his Ravenclaw friend, Harry could no longer stay still. With what little strength he still had, he jumped in front of the curse, getting hit directly in his chest before being blasted violently into the wall, hard enough that it crumbled and collapsed over him. Blood splattered all over the place, and then all was quiet.

A shriek of absolute horror and desperation tore itself out of Voldemort’s throat. A sound of nothing but pure pain and agony, so animalistic that no one would ever believe it had come from a human. Voldemort rushed to Harry’s limp body and crouched down next to him. For once, he did not even care that his actions were unbecoming of a Dark Lord.

He desperately cast all the healing spells he knew, poured potions down his unmoving lover’s throat, checking for any movement, any sign of life. There was no response. Harry Potter was long gone, never to see the world again. There was certainly no surviving the killing curse for a third time. Voldemort had done too much, gone too far, and he had lost what was most important to him. He had done everything he could to ensure the safety of his greatest treasure, however he had forgotten to protect that treasure from none other than himself.

* * *

Somewhere far, far away, one Harry Potter awoke for the second time at a familiar train station. He looked around, realized what happened, and _sobbed_. His tears were not for himself, but for Tom — who he had loved unconditionally to the very end — because he knew what terrible future awaited his lover.

* * *

Voldemort’s precarious hold on the last of his sanity slipped the moment he realized that Harry was gone forever. What finally broke him wasn’t his horcruxes after all, it was the destruction of his final connection to humanity. Voldemort had lost the one person he had ever truly cared for. Even worse, he lost the one person who had loved _him_. At his own hands, no less. It would have been enough to shatter anyone, and shatter him it did. Voldemort no longer had anything to fear, for the worst had already come true.

The Dark Lord’s descent into madness began that very day. It was from then on that he was truly believed to be a monster. Inhumane, the rumors said, incapable of any emotions other than rage and murderous glee. This was true to some extent — without Harry, Voldemort had forgotten how to feel any positive feelings. He was empty and lost, with no way back. So he fought back the only way he knew how — by delving even deeper into the Dark Arts and plotting to bring down the world. After all, in Voldemort’s eyes, no world deserved to move on like nothing happened when Harry was no longer there to see it.

If this insanity of his eventually lead him to completely forget his childhood friend, his only love... well, he no longer remembered enough to mourn that loss, did he?

Indeed, in the future, Voldemort would not remember the importance of messy black hair and a lightning bolt scar and glowing green eyes. Not at all. But when that final _Avada Kedavra_ , cast by his own hand, rebounded and flew back at him, he would look one last time at his enemy and recall a foggy memory of something beautiful, just out of reach....

* * *

Years after Harry’s death, on one gloomy Halloween evening, the story was brought back to where it had all started. The tale had finally reached its end — or perhaps it was the beginning. That day, a complete cycle of life and death was born. The strings of fate were spun once more, telling, again, the well-known story of a toddler, a Dark Lord, and a prophecy.

The fate of the two had always been set, there had never been anything they could do to defy it. The love they shared had been both powerful and true, but with the rest of the universe against them, their struggles were futile. It was just not _enough_.

In the end, the pair were destined to to walk that fine line of love and destruction, of sanity and insanity. Both were fated to be the salvation and the devastation of the other. Their souls, ever so closely entwined, and yet the complete opposite of each other, created a circle of pain and beauty, so tightly weaved that it could never be broken. And so, they were to continue living in their never-ending circle — like a marionette, forced to dance forever to a cursed melody.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him,_

_born as the seventh month dies_

_and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

_but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_

_and either must die at the hand of the other_

_for neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_

_will be born as the seventh month dies_

**_._ **

**_._ **

**.**

**_...And either must die at the hand of the other_ **

**_for neither can live while the other survives..._ **


End file.
